[color=c4df9b][b][h3]Siran Vahramyan Arshakuni[/h3][/b][/color]

The answer she got was mildly pleasing; the Prince wasn't able to give her a solid figure, but he seemed sure they would be gone for some time. In fact, perhaps the uncertainty surrounding the length of their journey meant they might be absent longer than they anticipated, which suited Siran just fine. What was strange to note is that mention of traveling by sea seemed to trouble the Prince. This was less than ideal; if the Prince had no stomach for the traveling, then their expedition might end prematurely. That was the last thing Siran wanted, but as it stood, she had no way of doing anything about it other than hoping it didn't come to that. 

Soon enough, some knight entered the hall, presumedly someone already known to the Prince's cohorts, since he seemed to be partly in charge of their arrangements. He announced that it was time for them all to leave. Siran was more than fine with getting on the road right now. At the mention of horses, her thoughts moved to those of her own horse, Karabakh. [color=c4df9b][b]"I have my own horse. If someone needs one, let them have the one prepared for me."[/b][/color] She spoke aloud. The thought of using a horse other than Karabakh was absurd to her; she'd had him since before her clan was chased from Ibion and he was probably the greatest friend she had. Not to mention she had severe doubts that any of the random horses these people had as spares could compare to an Arshakuni royal warhorse, bred and raised for battle. If there were no objections, she would be out the door as quickly as anyone else and swiftly to her horse, more than ready to make the ride to the port.